River Flows in You
by leighbenz9000
Summary: He sees her playing the piano in the music store down the street on his walk to work every day. He thinks she's beautiful. AU Percabeth oneshot.


**A/N: Inspired by the song "River Flows in You" by Yiruma. You can look it up on YouTube and listen to it as you read if you want :)**

I give an inward sigh, click the 'end' button, and place the phone back into the holder, unsurprised that my mom remembered to call me before my first day of work.

I check my reflection once again, making sure I haven't got any coffee stains on my shirt or that my hair isn't sticking up in the back like it always does. My eyes lock the green ones staring back at me in the mirror and I give myself a nervous half smile.

My black lab follows me to the door, whimpering as I shut it carefully behind myself. The sky is ominous overhead and I quickly begin walking to the office, eager to arrive before the rain starts.

* * *

I notice her for the first time about a month later on my usual walk to work. It's mid-September and the leaves on the trees are various shades of orange, crimson, and yellow. She's at the piano place on the corner of the street. The store has massive windows in order to display the pianos for sale. She's in a small room to the left, sitting at a grand piano and playing. I strain my ears, trying to catch a few notes of the music. Unfortunately, my efforts are met with silence. It's impossible to hear.

* * *

By Christmas it becomes a habit to see her. She's there at the same time every morning without fail and for some reason I find myself inexplicably drawn to her. Everything about her is marvelous: her slender fingers floating across the piano majestically, her right foot tapping rhythmically on the pedal, her full lips pursed as she reads the music, her willowy frame swaying along with the melody. I can tell when she makes a mistake by the way she stiffens and her eyebrows scrunch together in frustration. She stops every once in a while to tuck a strand of golden hair behind her ear, then quickly starts up again.

Every few weeks she changes the piece she's playing. I've begun to predict when she's almost finished with a piece by the way her body moves with the music. Once she's comfortable with a song, she closes her eyes and lets the music play itself, the light in the room illuminating her pale cheeks and long lashes. She moves in a dream-like state, a blissful smile etched across her face.

* * *

By early spring I decide that I can't take it anymore. I contemplate going into the store, perhaps to pretend I'm interested in purchasing a piano. I don't expect to meet her, but at least I'll be able to hear her play. I leave my house early that day, giving myself plenty of time to stop. Of course she's there as usual, today in a purple blouse and gray slacks. Her hair is clipped up in a sloppy bun and she has a new piece. She starts it slowly, working out the kinks and learning each note with quiet alertness.

I approach the door and reach out. My hand encompasses the small, gold handle and freezes. Thunder crackles overhead and I feel cold raindrops pricking my shirt. I turn on my heels and start off to work. I don't have an umbrella, anyways.

* * *

She's not there for the first time on Wednesday. I squint my eyes, the sun beating brilliantly against the glass windows of the store. There's someone else there in her place, and I feel strangely uneasy and resentful towards this stranger. It's odd how I've become accustomed to seeing her everyday. Perhaps she knows, subconsciously, that I'm there every morning, looking in on her playing. I wonder if she feels my presence and if a small part of her would miss me if I didn't pass by.

For a moment, I contemplate how exactly I feel about the girl. The word love bubbles to my mind and I force it down, rolling my eyes. Everyone knows there's no such thing as love at first sight.

* * *

I'm at Starbucks, checking emails on my iPhone, when I'm interrupted with a soft 'excuse me.' I look up and she's standing in front of me, her large gray eyes fixated on my face. She has a sheepish smile and apologizes for interrupting me, claiming that I look incredibly familiar to her and she just can't resist. She asks if we've met before and I shake my head no.

"Well, hi," she says, holding out her hand tentatively. "My name is Annabeth."


End file.
